Trying To Reach Me
by Measured
Summary: "You're not allowed to say you're not worth the money. You haven't spent a coin on yourself in years," Ike said. IkeSoren preslash.


Title: Trying To Reach Me  
Series: Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance  
Character/Pairing: light Ike/Soren. Preslash-ish.  
Rating: PG  
Author's note: fic_promptly any, any, You've been trying to reach me / you brought me a book. It alludes to spoilers for Soren's past and a certain base scene in Radiant Dawn.

**.**

"I knew I'd find you here."

Soren didn't look up from his book. However, his grip tightened, ever so slightly on the pages. For once, Ike didn't notice. Soren couldn't tell if he was disappointed or relieved by this.

Between the stacks, he had been unmemorable. In his silence, he was just another scholar. With marble floors polished until the other librarians looked like shades in the reflections, and rooms larger than the entire mercenary fort they had lived in for years, the library was like a maze to the uninitiated.

The dark-cloaked mages and historians rarely talked, except to the librarians. All he had to do was pull up his cloak and slip into darkness. And yet, Ike had found him. Perhaps he'd looked for hours. Soren relished the thought for one selfish moment.

Ike didn't so much ease into the chair as fall into it. He'd broken more than one before by this bit of carelessness. The chair survived, which was good for their coin purse, as these were far from the rough wood of the country. Ike grimaced as he shifted in the chair, unused to cushions or gilded edges.

"Does it rival the libraries of Melior?" Ike said.

Soren inclined his head.

And to think, had he stayed in ignorance, it might have taken him twenty years to figure it out. When Ike had started to show true age, and he remained... Soren looked down to his hands. There were no traces of claws, nothing to hint of of his foul bloodline. So far, Ike couldn't see. But one day, he would. One day he'd realize.

No. Not if he kept silent. He could-

Soren swiftly turned the pages and kept his gaze to the text. He'd forgotten his place. It had long blurred to indistinguishable, but he remained steadfast. One day he'd find a way. To what, he didn't know, but Soren hadn't allowed himself to be helpless since he was a child. Whether it be making the most of the mark on his forehead and concocting stories of a pact with a spirit to ensure he got fed, to traveling from town to town to search for that long lost boy, Soren had never let himself become complacent for even a moment.

"I didn't see you after the staff meeting today," Ike said.

"I've been engaged in a certain...research," Soren said. He cleared his throat. The memory of the page burned at him. The one that changed everything, that set every second of his life back in place. The way the beasts had walked past him in the forest, as if he didn't exist.

"No surprises there. I went out to the street merchants. They kept trying to give me discounts...and introduce me to their daughters," Ike said. He grimaced. Soren could only imagine how many times Ike had been forced to flee, or risk possible brushes with engagement.

"Hopefully less marriage proposals than you usually get from certain shop girls," Soren said.

"Somewhat. More than I'd like," Ike said. His brow had creased in irritation.

"I bought you something."

Ike reached below new blue cloak, tied with the golden broach of a lord. His face contorted into a grimace as he pushed the cloak away.

He brought out a book with gold edges. The cover was thick, and tightly bound in red leather. Unless Ike struck a very harsh bargain, it was the kind of pricy indulgence that none of them could ever afford, least of all Soren.

"I couldn't read the title with all those fancy swirls, but, I figured it had to be something good," Ike said.

"It-thank you," Soren said.

Soren didn't have the heart to tell him it was a ribald novel based on the journals of one of the most scandalous senate member: Oliver.

"Yes..." Soren cleared his throat. "Thank you for thinking of me."

"You're not allowed to say you're not worth the money. You haven't spent a coin on yourself in years," Ike said.

Soren fingered the edge of the cover. Even though the inside contents were sure to be horrifying, he pulled the book close. Each gift from him, whether it was a piece of food, or a book he'd never read was to be treasured.

Ike was waiting, asking a question without even speaking a word. Years ago, he would have simply stumbled in, blunt and artless. And yet, here he was. Growing decades before Soren's eyes. Ike was close to becoming the swordsman he had dreamed of his whole life, and yet, it was nothing like those childish daydreams in the forest.

"Thank you," he said again, though it wasn't merely for the book.

Ike was the closest he'd ever gotten to trusting anyone. And not once had he regretted putting his faith in Ike. And yet...

Soren cleared his throat. "I have things to attend to. Thank you for the book...the gift." It all came out so stiff and unnatural. He was keenly aware that Ike saw this, knew him and his telling points. He wasn't the only one who could read body language, he wasn't the only one who knew well enough to tell without a single word.

"You didn't even lecture me on spending," Ike said.

"Even I can appreciate a gift," Soren said. "Believe it or not. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Soren put his hood up. He'd taken to covering his head while in public. They were no longer among country bumpkins who could be fooled with a tale of a pact.

Ike didn't rise up from the table. Even left behind time and time again, he waited. Soren knew him well enough to understand that Ike would still be waiting until Soren told or the secret broke from him, whichever came first.


End file.
